Chapter Text
|-Wednesday evening. 38th Sixth Apartments, 38 6th Avenue, Brooklyn, New York-|
I swear, when I get my hands on Mark... Oh, the nerve that asshole has. I know for a fact that Met showed him how to be a smug prick. He's getting some too after this. I just need to get to Mark's apartment. 38th Sixth Apartment. I park by the sidewalk and get out of my car. I walk up to the building and enter, making my way to the elevator which I use to get up to the seventh floor. I then march my way to Mark's apartment. Seven 'o six. I knock on the door and hear Jessica's voice first.
"Arrah, now, is that Met or Kati?" I hear her ask Mark.
"Uh... I dunno whatcha mean, Jessicuh." Is Mark's response. "Open the damn door, Mark." I say, knocking again.
"Oh, Jaysus... She sounds fairly cracked." I hear Jessica say through the door, followed by footfalls. Presumably her coming to let me in followed by quicker steps which I assume to be Mark trying to stop her. But he fails. The door opens and I throw my shoe at Mark, missing him by an inch.
"Ay yo, jeez! Lookit, LOOKIT! I didn't mean nuttin' by it, I swear! OH FUHK!" He dives behind the couch in an attempt to shield himself. But it won't work. I jump on the sofa and start dragging him out from behind it, all while Jessica laughs. This isn't the first time me or her have had to do something like this because of what Mark or Met have said to us. But this time, Jessica seems to take Mark's side.
"Ah, now, you might be gettin' a wee bit carried away there, Kati. Why don't you take a step back, have a breath? Surely we can sort this out with a bit of talkin'." It's really, really hard to not listen to Jessica. If this little band of idiots I call friends had someone who made sure things didn't get out of hand, it's her. I step off the couch and start breathing. Deep and low. Slow and steady. Make no mistake, I'm still pissed. Just not homicidal. I then watch as Mark sheepishly comes out of his little den, face still red with panic.
"Is it safe ta come outta da hidey-hole?" He asks, still partially hiding.
"Unless I change my mind, yes." I tell him, ready to chuck my other shoe at him if need be. But something tells me that won't happen. So I go to grab the Chuck Taylor that's already on the floor and slip it back on. I then hear Mark speak up again.
"Aight, so uh... How 'bout we go... blow off some steam, yeah? I heah Met's goin' to dat Dave & Bustah's in Manhattan. We could join 'im." That's... not really a bad idea. Might get me to make peace with Mark after his little stunt.
"I don't reckon I've ever been to one meself. We should go. Give Met some company, and all." Jessica says as she heads to her room. Probably getting her sho- Wait, that was Mark's room? Are... Are they dating now? When did that start? Am I really that dense? Never-mind that. We've got an arcade to tear up. I grab my things and start heading down the hall, shouting in the meantime.
"I'll meet you two lovebirds there!" And then I get a response from Mark.
"HOW DA FUHK YOUSE JUST NOW NOTICE?!" I pay it no heed, though. Call the elevator. Wait a minute while it ascends. Door opens. In I go and then... I descend.
It's loud. Very loud. The sound of games and good times is everywhere. But the energy that it's exuding ecstatic. So much that it's hard not to get pulled into all of it. But there's one thing missing:
Met. We haven't seen him at all tonight. Mark said he was coming here, right? I nudge the Brooklyn jackass to get his attention, and it seems I succeed.
"What's da problem? Ya ain't havin' a good time?" He asks, thinking I'm still trying to kill him by the way his voice sounds.
"What? No. Where's Met? I thought we'd see him by now." I say, worried that something may have happened. But the feeling of hands on my shoulders puts those ideas out of my mind.
"What's up?" I turn around and see Met, black hair sleek as ever. Ears standing tall and he's got... Why does he have a bandage on his shoulder?
"Met? You're not-" I go to say before Mark's voice overpowers me.
"Ay yo, holy shit! Dis guy's got some tatt's on 'im." Mark's interruption gets everyone's attention as he sees the bandage on Met's shoulder. He then walks over and slaps it.
"OW! The fuck?!" Met looks like he's getting ready to punch Mark. What I'd give to see that.
"Ay, shit... Ya just got dun today." Mark responds, showing his clear lack of observational skills to all of us once again.
"No shit, you idiot. That's why I've still got a bandage on it. AND DON'T DISRESPECT EDDIE!" Am I hearing things? Or does Met sound kinda... spacey? He's not high right now, is he? Wait, wouldn't that mess with his HRT?
"Met... Are you...-" He interrupts me before I can continue.
"Only messes with the hormones under certain conditions. This won't cause any of them." I've learned better than to question his logic by this point. I mean, he is trans. He would and frankly should know this information. Without any other words, Met starts leading us through the place, passing by machines and games without much of a thought. I guess he's already got something in mind.
"Air hockey? Really? Dat's what we're startin' wit'?" Mark says, clearly not amused by the sight.
"Arr ye scared now, thinkin' you might just lose?" Jessica says, hand still within his. Seems that gets Mark riled up. He slips his tokens in and stands opposite of Met, intent on winning for once. The game starts, and Mark has a good opening, but it becomes apparent pretty quick that he is still out of his league. Met is just... way too good at this game. I would know. I've lost track just how many times I've lost to him. The two keep playing, Mark making some good defense but Met is just too good. The points start to pile up and eventually, it ends. 10-1. Wasn't even close. We move through the place again, playing games here and there. Nearly makes me forget earlier. How I wanted to kill Mark for saying I was out on a date with Gold City. Oh god... Mit tettem? (What have I done?) The thoughts come back with a vengeance. They claw at my mind.
Those lips...
Stop.
What do they feel like...
No. Not here.
The sound of a booth snaps me out of this. Rampage. It catches my eye. Seems to catch Met's as well. Mark and Jessica too. Guess I'll get some reprieve after all. Might as well put in the tokens.
|-That same evening. Flatiron Building, 175 5th Avenue-|
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I'm still excited, heart still thumping. I need to keep my tail under wraps. At this rate, I'll accidentally knock something over. Maybe break it too. Can't have that happen. A lot of this looks to be really expensive. I approach the apartment door and knock before I start to hear shuffling from behind it, at which point the door swings open.
"Oh, City. Didn't know you were coming to see me." Randy says, surprised to see me at his apartment. Regardless of his confusion, he gestures for me to enter, and as I do, my mind drifts back to earlier in the day. I know it was simply a spur of the moment decision on Kati's part. So why does it feel like something more? I'm still trying to make sense of this all. But I have made progress. It's attraction I'm feeling towards her and I think I know where this began. Emphasis on think: I couldn't have been older than twelve. And it must've been in Hokkaido. But why was I there? Why was I that far north? Was I visiting family that still lived there? And who was the object of my affection during this time? Who caught turned my head and caught my eye? I know it was another girl. It had to have been, otherwise what I'm feeling right now wouldn't be so familiar.
"Hey." The sound of Randy's fingers snapping gets me out of my head. I turn to acknowledge him, ready for any questions he might have.
"Any reason you've come here in person? This has to be important if it's not over a text or phone call." He says, wanting a concrete answer. And I give it to him.
"Do you think it would be possible to get me and Kati on the lighthouse's balcony?" He looks at me, more confused than when I got here.
"Why?" Is the only thing he can muster.
"Kati wants to get some shots from up there. Do you know anyone who can get us access?" I ask again, wanting my own answer. Randy stays silent for a few seconds, the gears in his head turning. I don't think he was expecting me to ask something like this. Or for Kati to make that kind of suggestion. And here I thought that this man was prepared for any eventuality. Seems that I was wrong. He's still deliberating, by the way. Opening and closing his mouth as he thinks.
"I'll... see what I can do. But I can't make any promises." He says, finally giving me a response. But I don't feel satisfied with it. I feel like prodding more.
"Why not? You've been able to keep every promise you've made me so far. Why is this any different?" I ask, wanting to get more out of him.
"Because there's no guarantee the LPC will respond. They see an email or missed phone call from me and figure out what I do: that I'm a manager for models, primarily foreign models working here in the US, they'll think I'm trying to 'vandalize' the lighthouse. It is a designated landmark in the city. Remember that." He tells me, but there's something else on his mind. Something that he soon lets me know. "But I'll need to contact the LPC anyway just to get permission to use the lighthouse as a backdrop."
"How long do you think it'll be before they respond?" I then ask.
"Like I said, there's no guarantee I'll even get a response. This is a process. Bear with me." Randy takes a deep breath before speaking again.
"Was there anything else on your mind? Doesn't have to be related to our work. Like, anything you might want for your apartment that you can't find anywhere else." He says, and the thought gives me an idea. As much as I prefer running to my destinations, being an uma and all, New York isn't exactly designed with my demographic in mind. But at the same time... It would sound odd, wouldn't it? Ah, what the hell? No time like the present. Might as well ask him.
"A car. Do you think you could get me a car?" I say, voice solid but... a part of me thinks the inner conflict is present in my tone. Whether it's the awkwardness of asking for a car as an uma or the lingering thoughts on my attraction to Kati, I feel like it's there in my voice. But Randy either doesn't notice it or, most likely, doesn't care. No doubt he's had similar experiences with past clients.
"A car? Can... Can you even drive?" I... hadn't thought about that. For a brief moment, I forget the special lessons one Maruzensky gave me before my graduation. Lessons I'll forever be grateful for.
"Yes. Funnily enough." I pause, thinking about what kind of vehicle would suit me before I come to a decision. "I want a 1976 Toyota Celica. My Père owned one when I was a kid. It..." Randy sees where I'm going with that thought.
"Say no more. More than happy to loan one of my own while you're here in the US. I like to collect vintage Japanese cars. Never thought it would come around like this, though." He chuckles at the thought, and I find myself laughing with him. It's hard not to when his laugh is as infectious as it is. Three weeks and already my life has changed in ways that I never thought possible. And the strangest part is that I don't mind these changes. Not one bit. In fact: I welcome them. It's stupid to be so stubborn in it's face. And I don't want to be stubborn. Not like père. As I leave Randy's apartment, I find my mind wandering again. Random, disconnected thoughts until they drift back towards Kati again. If Randy is able to, we'll be on that balcony. And I can only imagine what those photos will look like. With that park behind me to the south or the Manhattan skyline to the west. I'm going to sit and dwell on these thought. On Kati. I think I can let professionalism go for now. I don't mind it.